


Shiner

by eyemeohmy



Category: Re-Animator (Movies)
Genre: Dubious Content, Eye Licking, Eye Trauma, Hand Jobs, Herbert's a creep and water is wet, M/M, Oculolinctus, Oculophilia, Slurs, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 15:57:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21038855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: "You know, with you, I've been doing a lot of crazy firsts.""Would you care to try another tonight?"





	Shiner

**Author's Note:**

> Fic takes place after the first film, and shortly in the beginning of the second film (they've returned from Peru), before the main events of said film. Fic was originally written in 2011, now fixed and cleaned up a bit.
> 
> Warning for a couple slurs.

Dan had always believed himself to be a reasonable man with a good head on his shoulders. Prone to the occasional daydream and flights of fancy, but relatively rooted to the ground. During his early years, he cut loose for a while, fooled around, got his fill. Dan was perfectly okay with being the guy who rolled with the punches and followed the trail without often wandering off.

His life was in complete order before Herbert West. He was in school, studying to become a doctor, engaged to a wonderful woman. Had his own place, made enough money to survive by himself without too many problems. It was all in order like rows of Dominoes; and just like Dominoes, Herbert came into his life like a gust of wind and knocked them down, everything falling piece by piece by piece.

Dan never would have expected his life to have gone so far off the fucking rails as it was now. Surrounded by death and loss--and zombies. Lots of zombies. Maybe it was like a drug; Dan knew this was unhealthy and wrong, but he couldn't stop. He was addicted. And part of it was due to his medical curiosity and desire to help others. He should have run away from Herbert West and all the chaos and misery that followed the shrewd little man, but just like the devil, Herbert had a silver tongue and knew just what to say to appeal to Dan's interests. A way to cheat death, to make man invincible, to end the suffering the end always brings? 

How could Dan turn away from _that_?

But that was a long time ago. Now... Now Dan had no idea why stayed. Any hope he had in Herbert and his re-agent was lost long ago. Yet there was no denying the pull the blasphemous concoction had--there was absolutely nothing like it on this Earth. It could not cure death necessarily, but it brought people and other once-living organisms back to life--more or less. A small part of Dan might've believed the re-agent could be improved, even perfected, and then, eventually...

Still, living and working with Herbert West was a trial of its own. The scientist was selfish, cruel, downright arrogant, and very, very dangerous. For someone intent on bringing the dead back to life, and conquering death all together, people who got close to Herbert for too long tended to meet a terrible, grotesque end.

Yet Dan was still here. He'd lost everything; the most important of them all being Meg. Working in harsh, unsanitary conditions during the war should have killed him off. Dan, like Herbert, survived and returned back to the States with little more than some bumps and bruises. He'd lost another piece of his soul, but whatever force that may or may not exist beyond the mortal coil saw fit that Dan be punished or cursed to stick beside Herbert for a while longer. If not until the very bitter end.

Or maybe Dan had died that night in the morgue, and this was his personal Hell?

How life would be so different if he'd simply shut Herbert West out the moment the madman revealed his true colors. It certainly wouldn't involve the batshit events that followed Dan after work.

The day started as usual. Either any records of their misdeeds in the pass were destroyed, forgotten, or remained undocumented, or this was simply part of God's little "gift" to Dan, the two found themselves employed at Miskatonic Hospital, the very place where everything went to shit in the first place. Dan didn't care to live in a former funeral home and gothic cemetery, but the place was roomy and the rent was cheap.

Dan had an influx of patients complaining about allergies that afternoon. One woman sneezed huge green gobs of mucus all over his coat. Dan smiled it off; polite as ever, with such a kind bedside manner. Then blood started gushing from her nose, nearly soaking the doctor to the bone, and she was rushed to the ER for a brain hemorrhage. She would survive, thankfully.

After work (and changing into clean scrubs), Dan went to the nearby bar. He just wanted to drink until he was buzzed, just enough so he could get a good night's sleep. He didn't want to think, didn't want to feel. But naturally, Herbert had to weasel his way into Dan's "me times" as well; the two shared the same hours and shifts, and although Herbert _loathed_ social events and crowds, the little shit decided to tag along with Dan to the bar. Didn't ask if it'd be all right; Herbert would simply point out Dan didn't own the place, he could go there if he wanted to. Dan wasn't in the mood to fight or argue anyway.

The first half hour went by nice and easy. Maybe a bit too well. Dan was enjoying a cold long neck bottle of cheap booze; helped cool him off from this awful humidity. Herbert was keeping to himself, sipping on water. Sometimes Dan would try to initiate conversation, but Herbert ignored him, focused intently on a woman sitting at the other end of the bar, drinking a mojito, giggling and flirting with a rough looking man in leather.

"What is it?" Dan asked, mildly curious but mostly bored.

Herbert didn't hear him--or wasn't listening. He gave a small _hmm_, then said a minute later: "Nothing." Back to sipping water and staring at the woman like a creep.

"You think she's pretty?" Dan pointed at the girl. "That's weird. I thought girls weren't your forte?"

"They usually aren't."

"Ah, so then--"

"_Nor_ are men."

Dan shrugged. "Well," he sighed and looked away, bottle to his lips. "Looks like she's taken. Too bad."

Dan wished he hadn't said anything, because the biker-man talking with the woman suddenly noticed Herbert staring. He got up, whispered into the lady's ear, and walked over to the smaller man, standing right in his very personal space. 

Herbert, for the time being, seemed undaunted and more annoyed than anything.

"Hey," the biker growled, "noticed you've been starin' at my girl for a while." He leaned forward. "You're startin' to weird her out. So how about you stop, huh?"

Herbert furrowed his brows. "Sorry," he apologized halfheartedly, "I was just admiring her cranial and facial structure. She has a fascinating deformity, the way the back of her skull slopes. Makes me wonder." He tilted his head, curious. "Does she have any sort of mutations in her DNA? Knowing Arkham's problem with incest, it wouldn't surprise me."

The biker's eyes widened. "You callin' my girl a retard, fairy boy?" he snapped.

"Now that would just be rude."

The biker grabbed Herbert by the shirt collar, lifting him until they were face to face. The bartender sighed, tired from the heat and reluctant to break up a fight. "You listen here, freak," the biker snarled, "I catch you lookin' at my girl again, I'll give yer skull some deformities, know what I mean?"

Dan attempted to placate the situation before the owner could step in. "Guys," he said, sliding off his stool. He stood beside Herbert. "Come on. Let's not do this."

The biker ignored him. "You listenin', fag?" he spat in Herbert's face.

Herbert reached up, took off his glasses; even being threatened and put in a dangerous position, he casually picked up the end of his shirt and wiped the spittle from the lenses. "You seem quite insistent that I'm gay," Herbert noted. "Is it because I don't find your girlfriend attractive?"

"I dunno, Jeff Dahmer, you tell me," the biker hissed. He pointed at Dan. "Ain't he your fuckboy?"

Dan's eyes bulged from his skull. "Hey," he snapped. He placed a hand over the fist holding Herbert's shirt. "Knock it off. And I'm _not_ his boyfriend."

"No, Dan, it's fine," Herbert reassured, raised a hand to him. He smiled at the biker. "Perhaps we should let him rant. I've noticed some very homophobic people with violent tendencies are often insecure about their own sexuality and/or performances in bed."

The biker looked scandalized. Then anger flashed across his face and Dan knew what was going to happen next. He didn't think, just pushed himself between the biker and his colleague; the biker decked him square in the eye. Dan gasped, pain exploding across his face, into his temples, and he fell back against Herbert. This time the bartender did run over, threatening to call the police.

The biker wasn't deterred. He wound his fist back, this time intent on hitting his target, but Herbert was faster. With one arm holding up Dan, Herbert whipped a small bottle from his pocket, spraying its contents in the biker's eyes.

The biker screamed in pain, grabbing at his burning eyes. He stumbled, knocking over chairs, hitting a table. His girlfriend shrieked and dropped her glass. Nearby patrons herded away from the flailing, growling man. The biker tripped on a stool on top of a table, throwing himself and pitchers of beer on the ground.

Maybe it was the doctor in him, but as soon as Dan no longer saw doubles, he rushed to check if the man was okay. Herbert placed a hand to his chest, pushed him away; he shook his head and walked up to the moaning, trembling biker. His entire face was red, eyes puffy and swollen. Herbert knelt beside him, showing the half-blinded man his bottle of mace.

"I brewed this mace myself, you know. It contains a trace amount of..." Herbert paused and smirked, resting his arm over one cocked knee. He tilted his head, quirky, amused smile on his face. "Well, I'll spare you the details. Not like you'd understand. I'm guessing you dropped out of school in... sixth grade? Seventh, at the latest."

The biker groaned and cursed and whimpered.

"In any case," Herbert said, inhaled, "if or when your eyes start to feel, oh, maybe, like they're evaporating? In the morning, go to the hospital. The chemical I added has this side effect, you see; in good, direct amounts it can literally melt eyeballs."

The biker gave a tormented whine.

"You may go blind, but it depends if the symptoms worsen over night," Herbert added. "But, look on the bright side, perhaps." He patted the biker's meaty arm. "You and your girlfriend can have fascinating deformities together." With that sickeningly cheerful, shit-eating-grin on his face, Herbert stood and walked back to Dan. Like everyone else, his flatmate was staring at him in awe and terror, speechless.

Herbert took Dan by the wrist. "We should get you home," he insisted, calm, relaxed. "I think we have some beef in the freezer we can slap on that nasty black eye."

Dan was still in a state of shock. He couldn't open his bruised eye more than a crack, forced to let Herbert guide him out of the bar. As they walked by the frightened girlfriend, Herbert said offhandedly, "If my staring were out of interest in a more physical, sexual way, trust me-- I'd be looking at your white knight over there, not you."

\---

Dan had been too busy nursing his shiner to lecture Herbert as they returned home. His head was pounding as if he'd been hit by a ton of bricks. The light was way too bright in the kitchen; it hurt when he winced. Herbert steered him to the table, but Dan pulled away.

"I want to lay down."

"You should--"

"I'm going to go lay down."

Herbert stared at him with something akin to shock by his defiance. Dan half-stormed, half-stumbled to his bedroom. Carefully spread out along the mattress with a heavy sigh. He closed his bruised eye carefully; listened to Herbert's footfalls stop at his door a minute later.

Herbert pulled up a seat next to Dan's bed, first aid kit in one hand, packaged and frozen raw chicken in the other. Dan opened his good eye, grumbled as Herbert bent forward to examine his injury. 

"He gave you quite the hematoma," Herbert mused, then whistled.

Dan frowned. "Yeah, well, if you had just kept your mouth shut, I wouldn't be in this mess." He glared one eye at his roommate. "Why did you have to say all that? Why did you have to goad him on? You should have just apologized and let it be."

"He could have ignored what I said and walked away, be the 'bigger man,'" Herbert countered. He rummaged inside the kit.

"Just give me a Tylenol or something. My head's killing me."

"Let me look at your eye. Just in case."

"It's fine."

"I promise I won't try to scoop it out, okay? I _am_ a doctor, you know. Not just a mad scientist."

Dan sighed. "Fine."

Herbert carefully checked over the bruise, fingers moving around its edge. His head would tilt inquisitively every few seconds and Dan was reminded of the cockatiel Meg once had before it literally flew the coop. Or a little puppy fascinated by jingling keys. Dan couldn't help but smile a little, but it went unnoticed. 

Herbert's fingers brushed lightly around the swollen eye, pushed just beneath bottom lid. 

"Ou!" Dan hissed, jerking away. Only more pain. No winning here.

"Nothing seems out of the ordinary or worrisome," Herbert reassured. "Can you open your eye a little wider, please? I want to check your sclera."

"Herbert," Dan grumbled, "this is all you're gonna get. Take it or leave it."

The smaller man frowned. "Doctors are the worst patients," he snorted. Dan rolled his good eye. Herbert gently braced his fingers outside the bruised area, inching closer. Carefully, very carefully, he peeled back the drooping top lid. It didn't seem to hurt, or Dan was hiding his pain rather well. Regardless, Herbert's own eyes widened behind his large glasses.

That look-- Dan had seen it many, many times before. Herbert was... intrigued?

"What is it?" Dan asked, chest suddenly tight. Herbert was only really interested in dead things he could play with. "Something wrong?"

"A few vessels. Broke," Herbert muttered. His expression remained neutral, professional, but that interested little glimmer in his eyes only brightened. Herbert brushed Dan's eyelashes up, drew closer. His breath was hot, smelled of the hospital's crappy food and just a hint of lemon, and Dan reclined his head farther back into the pillow. The corner of his eye was spotted with blood. "Right quadrant sclera, just a couple vessels. Nothing serious."

Dan sighed with relief. "Bruised and busted eye. Believe it or not, this is... kind of a first." He smirked. "You know, with you, I've been doing a lot of crazy firsts."

"Would you care to try another tonight?"

Dan blinked the one eye, the other still pinned open by Herbert's fingers. "How do you mean?" he asked. Gulped. "No, if you're thinking about experimenting--"

"It is experimental, but not in a... scientific way," Herbert replied, half-smiling. "We are such curious creatures. Humans inherently are, of course. But scientists, doctors-- We're driven by it, our need to explore, to gain and acquire as much knowledge as possible, especially when it comes to the inner workings of man, and its... reactions to certain stimuli." He breathed lightly against the eye and Dan cursed as he was unable to blink against it. "I want to try something. It may cause minor pain, slight irritation. I assure you, however, you won't find yourself screaming and writhing and begging me to stop."

"You don't know that," Dan scowled, "with you, even the most normal, mundane shit can go horribly wrong. Remember the incident with the toaster? Just going to make some toast, you said, and do you remember what happened next?"

"No."

"I do. Much to my misfortune, I always will."

Herbert snorted. "Well, I promise if it gets too uncomfortable for you--"

"_Too_ uncomfortable? Herbert, nothing with you is _not too_ uncomfortable." Dan bristled. "Look, just put that chicken on my eye before it thaws and let me r--"

Sometimes, actions spoke louder than words. You could convince people more with what you did instead of what you said. So knowing there would be no persuading Dan with talk, Herbert pressed one hand to his cheek, the other keeping the eye open, and leaned down. Dan went stiff as a corpse when Herbert's tongue suddenly traced the edge of his bloodied sclera.

Dan was gobsmacked, utterly at a loss for words. Herbert took advantage of his lack of reaction and fight to continue stroking his tongue around the red-white of his eye. Never quite touching the pupil or iris. It felt... strangely odd. Intrusive, but it didn't really hurt. Dan had an eye exam before that once required the ophthalmologist to poke around, but it wasn't the same as _this_. Mostly because the doctor used a finger, not his damn tongue. The pressure was a bit firm around the sclera except for the wounded area. Dan was still choked up. 

Really, how did one react to _this_?

Herbert didn't say anything; his hooded eyes closed. By the way he was licking, it was as if he was relishing the taste, the texture. Certainly, this experiment would not involve Dan's eyeball in a jar or sewn to ten other eyeballs, but this whole thing was no less balls to the wall insane.

Dan would confess that during the chaos of _what_ and _why_ in his mind, the slight blush on Herbert's cheeks was... kind of cute.

Two minutes, two full minutes Herbert was given to test Dan's eye with his tongue before Dan finally recoiled, sat up with his back pressed to the wall. "Herbert, w-what the Hell!" he cried, jaw slack.

Herbert blinked. As if he didn't understand why his roommate would have this sort of reaction to his eye being tongue fucked. "Did it hurt?" he asked quietly.

"No, but--"

"Then why stop?"

"Because it--_because_!" Dan cried, throwing his arms open. "You don't just--you don't just go around licking someone's eyeball! Not only because it's injured and unsanitary, but also because _people just don't do that_!"

"People with oculophilia do."

"Oculoph-- Herbert, I don't. I don't want to know anymore of your fetishes. The nosebleed shit was one thing, but this is just going too far out-- Do you realize how creepy you are, I never did ask you that, but now's better than ever to ask, so do you? Know? How creepy you are?"

"I'm not an oculophiliac," Herbert insisted. "I'm a scientist. I experiment."

"Yes, on cadavers--Hell, even reanimated cadavers--with tools and medical instruments for the sake of expanding knowledge, not... Not to be a kinky _freak_."

"How is this any different in regards to 'expanding knowledge'?" Herbert's brows lifted. "Would you prefer I try this on a corpse--"

Dan grabbed Herbert by the shoulders. "You know exactly what I'm saying." 

"I wouldn't have done it. I have no interest in the dead when it concerns urges like these," Herbert reassured, as if that really fucking helped put Dan at any ease. "Also, you're the only person I'd ever try this on."

That was sweet. Or something. Dan's met Herbert's eyes again, one squinted and red. "While I... appreciate the fact that... I'm the only person you'd preform eye oral on, I just..." He chewed his bottom lip. "Do I _really_ have to explain why this is weird?"

Herbert moved forward, until he was sitting on the bed in front of Dan. Very close, and Dan twitched. "Why is it you're so opposed to trying the different, the strange? Something new?" he asked. His thumb smoothed along the edge of the bruise and Dan locked up. "You've opened up to my reanimation experiments. Why does something so little and harmless like oculolinctus frighten you?"

"It's not scary, it's just--"

"Then how about we even things out?" Herbert's hand climbed into Dan's lap seconds later, and he swallowed a gasp. The hand moved to rest on Dan's thigh. "Back in Peru, do you remember? A soldier was in such intense pain; we had no anesthesia, no painkillers, no numbing agents. He wouldn't let you touch his head wound; couldn't keep his hand from coddling it. So, with the heat having gone to your head and acting out of drastic measures, you broke his pinkie. The new pain distracted him enough that he forgot about the hole in his head, let you tend to it while he nursed his finger." Herbert leered, palming the thigh, sitting so close. "If you can't relax, focus on something else. Let your mind be distracted. And allow me to return the favor; not fair that only one of us experiences this euphoria."

What was it about Herbert that Dan surrendered to him time and time again? Not by force, but by choice. It couldn't be his stupid little smiles, his dumb big warm eyes, his ugly pretty face, his infuriating trembling, sinewy body that Dan could just... pin down and break apart until Herbert was making those unattractive whimpers and rocking into his body in a way that wasn't causing Dan's dick to suddenly go half-mast.

"That was... one time." Dan grunted, blushing. "And this? Will _also_ just be one time."

A shove with the heel of his palm, toward the bottom before it worked its way up. Oh, God. Herbert didn't even need experience; skilled doctors had the best hands and knowledge of anatomy. Double dammit. "Yes, of course, but while we're on the subject," Herbert agreed, smirked. Thumb and forefinger parted his roommate's droopy eyelids. "Kindhearted, merciful, occasionally insufferably gentle Dan, breaking someone's finger so they'd stop fussing and let you treat them. Not something you'd usually resort to, even with so few options left." Herbert's lips brushed against lashes, air hot and stinging his partner's eye. His hand moved past the waistline of pants and boxers, cupping Dan's treacherous erection. "A once in a lifetime thing, I'd imagine. I was lucky to be there and witness it first hand."

"... And?"

"Thank you, mother."

Dan drew air sharply through his nostrils. Up close, the way Herbert's throat fluttered--he wanted to bite the pale, sweat-slick meat, chew and chew. Fingers wrapped around Dan's cock, moving miserably slow. He hadn't felt the tongue reach his sclera again and lick. All sensations had pooled right into his groin. 

Herbert started stroking Dan off, picking up the pace little by little. Sweat beaded Dan's forehead, ran down his temple near Herbert's lapping tongue.

Herbert looked and sounded as if he were getting off too, only his pleasure was derived from licking the bruised and battered eye. Swirling tongue over and around, up and down, occasionally flicking soft, moist tissue. Dan would grunt if he hit a sensitive spot and Herbert would oblige by moving away from it and giving his dick another fierce tug. 

Dan was quite appreciative if the hands suddenly taking Herbert's hips and yanking him forward said anything. Herbert came as ordered, flush against Dan's chest, their legs awkwardly adjusting around one another. The edge of Herbert's tongue dabbed around the iris as his hand yanked once, twice, up his partner's shaft. Licking and stroking in tandem.

As Dan grew closer to release, his eyes welled up with tears. Nothing to be shed, however. It was almost a bonus for Herbert. He tasted the salty moisture against his hungry tongue. Teased the slit of Dan's erection with his thumb, sweeping it around his crown in unison with his tongue around the sclera. It didn't hurt, and if it did, Dan was too distracted by the action down in his pants to register it.

Just a few more tugs and a few more licks and Dan growled between grit teeth, his head falling back against the wall. Herbert kept his hand laced around his dick as he came, dove head forward to have one final taste of Dan's eye. When it settled, he let his mouth rest over the bruise; Dan breathed heavily, hot and twitchy. Irritability from dryness brought by Herbert's breath against his eye finally kicked in; Dan scowled and moved his face aside.

Herbert didn't fight him. He sat back, taking his hand wet with cum out of Dan's pants. Dan blushed, still embarrassed by the intimacy he shared with a man he sometimes had difficulty remotely liking and being in the same room--same _state_\--with. 

Herbert squinted and spit, picking at his tongue with fingers covered in semen. 

Dan was baffled.

Herbert hissed, spat again, corner of his mouth white with cum. Dan's face was red and purple and blue. "Eyelash," Herbert smirked. It was more frightening than amusing. He casually wiped the semen from his tongue.

A moment later, Herbert climbed off the bed, retreated. Dan was left sitting there, dazed, riding off the waves of post-hand job or whatever _that_ whole thing was. He slowly slid down the bed on his side, mind still reeling. 

Herbert returned, hands and face clean. He tossed his partner a box of tissues. "Unless you want to take a shower," he said.

"May... Maybe in a minute," Dan murmured. When his brain wasn't scrambled. He took the box, stared at it.

"Well, this won't do any good."

Dan looked back and up. Herbert held up the dripping, half-thawed package of chicken. "Still want to use it?" he asked.

"No," Dan grumbled, pressed a hand to his face. "I've had enough things done to and inside of my eye for the night. And, well, forever."

"It was a fair trade. You had an orgasm."

"That's beyond the point and isn't related to your _tongue in my eye_."

\---

The next day, Michael Sadoski made a walk in appointment at the Miskatonic Hospital. He sat on the cold examination bed, barely able to see out of his swollen, blistery red eyes. He didn't look up as the door opened, just saw the edges of a doctor's coat swish briskly past him.

"Your chart says you're here for eye pain."

"Worse than eye pain, doc," Michael whined. "It's like they're on fire. It's been like this ever since last night. I, er, had an accident, see. But, I couldn't sleep, my eyes hurt so bad." He was on the verge of tears, badly in need of sympathy his girlfriend couldn't give him as he bawled about the pain all night. "What's worse is... a friend of mine who was there said the stuff I accidentally got in my eye would," he swallowed, "would might maybe _melt_ them. Can you believe that? But he said if it's worse in the mornin' to go see a doctor."

"I see."

Michael finally looked up, the doctor's back to him as he examined his patient's chart. "You gotta make the pain stop, doctor. I can't stand it any more," he whimpered.

"Well," the doctor sighed, flipping back a sheet of paper. Michael's eyes could not widen from their little slits when the physician turned around, sporting an ugly shiner.

Dan smiled kindly. "I'm not very knowledgeable in fields concerning the eye," he said. "So I've called in another doctor who has a better understanding to help you out."

As if right on cue, the door opened and Herbert grinned at Michael's pale, horrified face. He stepped inside with a cheery stride. "Good morning," Herbert said warmly, loudly snapping on a latex glove. "Let's see what my colleague and I can do to make you a little more comfortable."


End file.
